Translating literary works is always a challenging task. A lot gets lost in every translation even when it is done by someone equipped with an enviable command over both the original language of a text and that of its translation. Some translations, however, are so good that they add to the original text. These gains can be small but they can also be important. They not only infuse new ideas, nuances and meanings into the translated texts, they may also add to their linguistic beauty.

The difficulties in translation have their origin in the fact that it is impossible to find exact linguistic equivalents in any two languages. This is because every expression in a language is the product of centuries-old preferences and practices embedded in and defined by the culture associated with that language. In the absence of exact linguistic equivalents, translators can only aim for nearness and proximity.

A translation, thus, generally turns into a dialogue between two cultures. This dialogue aims to bridge differences that may create misunderstandings if left unaddressed. At the very least, a translation can create an atmosphere where divergences and differences in various cultures can be negotiated and celebrated.

Translators should not desist from inventing new idioms and phrases. These may appear vague and strange initially but some of them may one day add to the semantic and linguistic repository of the language in which the translation is being done.

It is not always easy to define what a good literary translation is and how it can be attempted. If a translated text succeeds in retaining the basic sense and intended meaning of the original in a diction that, on the one hand, gives the reader a feel of freshness and, on the other, makes them feel at home, it could be termed a good translation. This general rule, however, cannot be applied to poetry and fiction in the same manner.

The basic sense and intended meaning of a poetic text lie in metaphors, images and symbols. This makes poetry essentially untranslatable because poetic metaphors, images and symbols are rooted in the culture a poetic text originates from. Their exact linguistic equivalents in other languages may not exist because of cultural differences. It is not surprising that the best translations of poetry do not read like literal renderings but creative literature in their own right.

On the contrary, the basic sense and intended meaning of a work of fiction are spread across its plot and could be found in the narration of events, description of places and delineation of characters. There is very little in a plot or a sequence of events organised in a logical way that cannot be entirely rendered from one language into another. Plots are also universal rather than local, and stories are vagabonds — they travel from one place to another, trampling down on cultural fences. Fiction, therefore, is more easily translatable than poetry.

Yet the core ideas a story contains are embedded both in the cultural context of the language it is written in and the worldview of its author. These ideas, therefore, remain untranslatable.

Amina Azfar, compiler, editor and translator of the anthology under review, seems to have mulled over all these intricacies, and found some practical solutions for them. She also appears to be cognizant of the political repercussions and ideological ramifications the term Pakistani nationalism – or Pakistaniat – entails. A number of Urdu short stories have, indeed, sought to tackle the very issue of Pakistaniat. Some of these have been made part of this anthology as well.

Rather than focusing on ideology, however, Azfar’s major concern while selecting the contents has been to choose short stories on the basis of their literariness – formal qualities that turn a story into a fine piece of writing – and their thematic resonance with common human instincts, emotions, feelings and experiences. This way she has succeeded in bringing out an anthology that seems to have covered the multifarious trends the Urdu short story has exhibited since 1947.

Mindful of the fact that a number of other anthologies of Urdu short stories translated in English already carry the writings of all the great and known writers of Urdu fiction, Azfar has selected stories that are relatively less noticed. She, however, has made a serious effort to ensure that the selection remains representative of the variety and diversity within the genre.

It is hard to say if she has succeeded in her endeavour for the simple reason that the most circulated and most quoted stories are often – and misleadingly – seen as representative. Even otherwise, no two readers and critics would agree on what is representative and what is not. All one can say about the stories included in this anthology is that they are not bad.

It is not possible to talk about each story within this limited space but a few of them warrant some mention. Manto’s A Fake Story (Jhooti Kahani) is based on a unique idea. It talks about an association of rogues and criminals who get together to protect their ‘rights’. Written in Manto’s inimitable style but usually neglected by editors of anthologies, it is a social satire on politicians, bureaucrats and other holders of public offices.

What the Moon Saw (Dhanak), a relatively long short story by Ghulam Abbas, is undoubtedly among the best pieces of Urdu fiction. Written in the 1960s, it foretells Pakistan’s Islamisation. The events it narrates show how Islamisation might impact the state and society. The writer concludes that mullah rule will result in institutional decay, social anarchy, intellectual degeneration and urban decline.

Azfar has chosen Monkey Tale (Bandar Kahani) from Intizar Hussain’s oeuvre, preferring it over his other and better known stories such as The Last Man (Aakhri Admi) and Yellow Dog (Zard Kutta). The selected story is a good example of intertextuality — an essential feature of Hussain’s writing style. Based on a traditional Indian story, Jatak Kataht, woven around one of the multiple births of Buddha, it deftly juxtaposes the animal kingdom and the human world.

As far as the quality of translation in the anthology is concerned, Azfar has successfully retained the plot of the stories. She has also done well in staying as close to the ethos of the original text as she could by avoiding changing the names of characters, places and cultural practices.

All this helps to make her anthology of Urdu fiction accessible to those Pakistanis, especially the youth, who cannot read Urdu and therefore remain oblivious to its great literary output. The book, thus, not only aims to bridge the cultural gap between East and West but also between the East and its own Westernised sections.

This article was originally published in the Herald's May 2018 issue under the headline "A word apart". To read more subscribe to the Herald in print.